


Stone

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night Dean tells Sam it's over.</p><p>Set sometime in Season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stone

The night Dean told Sam it was over Sam went out to a bar and fucked the first girl who let him buy her a drink. They did it against the outside wall of their motel room and Sam knew Dean was inside. He wanted him to hear. Sam was hard, and the girl was wet, and Sam held her against him, his jacket spread between her back and the peeling weather boards. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he held her up with his hands under her ass, and as he got closer and closer all that was running through his head was the triumphant thought that he could never have fucked Dean this way – holding him up so easily, Dean's legs around his waist, Dean's ass in his hands – until just thinking about it pushed him right over the edge.

As they brushed themselves down Dean appeared on the step with three beers. Sam was holding the sticky tied off condom and he stuffed it in his pocket like he could hide what he'd done from Dean that way, but Dean didn't look at him.

Dean's face was hollow in the cloud of light above the porch, but he grinned and held a beer out to the girl. "Thought you might need one," he said.

Sam's face flooded with shame. The girl eyed Dean for a long moment, considering, then she pushed away from the wall, smoothed her skirt down one long thigh, and took the beer.

"Thanks. I'm Rochelle."

"Dean," he said, his smile almost reaching his eyes, and passed Sam his beer with his hand carefully wrapped around the neck of the bottle so Sam could take it without touching him.

Sam stood there holding it as condensation turned the label wet. He peeled it off in gray strips between the lines of glue, and all the while watched his big brother charm Rochelle and look at her rather than at Sam, and all the while the scent of his own semen added its faint note to the night air and he could still feel the press of her shiny clean hair where he'd pushed his forehead into her shoulder.

~

Just before dawn Sam crept into Dean's bed. The sheets were slightly damp with sweat, and the familiar warm smell of Dean so dear. Sam touched him, running his shaking hand down Dean's chest, skimming the soft mound in his boxers. He lowered his body carefully over Dean's and Dean lay still, kept his eyes shut. Sam kissed Dean's forehead, a clumsy bump of lips to skin, and he felt his chest fill with the first air he'd had in hours. Dean turned his face into the sheets and said, “No, Sam.”

For a second Sam thought about how much bigger, how much stronger he was than Dean, and the thought scared him so much that he backed up, carefully lifted his body away, and tried not to brush too closely against Dean's heated skin.

~

They don't talk. They return to how it was before, and after a few weeks Sam begins to wonder if he's imagined it all. If he'd imagined the way Dean gave him secret smiles while they were working, the way he'd been able to let his eyes follow Dean and sink into Dean and know Dean was watching him back. If he'd dreamed the times they'd fallen into seedy motel beds, frantically stripped each other down, dragged their cocks together, and panted and cursed into each other's mouths until they came.

~

Sam wakes with a jolt at five am on the first morning of Dean's last three months. He's permanently filled with fear these days but he's still got ideas, he's still running down their own particular devil and he won't give up no matter what.

As the roaring tide of blood in his ears goes out he can hear the shower running. He turns to the side and Dean's not in his bed. He sits up and drags one of the ancient books he got from Bobby up onto the bed and turns to where he'd been before falling asleep.

He reads for a few minutes, waiting for Dean to turn the shower off and come out already dressed and avoiding Sam's eyes.

The shower keeps running. Sam gets up and walks silently to the crack in the door. He pushes it open a little and looks in. He tells himself he's just checking to make sure Dean's all right but what he sees makes him catch his breath. Through the moldy see-through paisley patterned shower curtain Dean is standing with his arms braced against the wall, water running over his shoulders and his bowed head, his cock red and hard and jutting out.

Sam's heart is caught in a vice. Everything he wants, everything he needs, the only thing he loves is standing just three feet away and totally out of reach.

He sees Dean's back shudder a little. Sees him move his right hand off the wall and fist it around his cock, stroking it too slow, stroking too slow to do anything more than frustrate. Sam's own hands burn with the remembered feel of Dean's cock and he clenches them to stop himself moving.

Dean goes still and takes his hand away from his cock, rubs it wearily over his face instead. He reaches up to turn the water off and Sam thinks he hears him whisper his name, whisper _Sammy_ , but he's not really sure.

When Dean comes out armored in his jeans and shirt Sam is safely back in bed.

~

Sam wishes he could make time stop and run backwards. He wishes he could go to bed and wake up in a world where it's okay that he loves his brother, a world where his brother will love him back. But the only thing standing between Dean and hell is Sam, and that's the one thing he can do, the one thing he will do, and he vows to himself that even if he can't save Dean in the beginning, he won't rest until he's opened up the mouth of hell and dragged him back. 


End file.
